


Yes, Ma'am

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Pure fluff and smut, something nice happens to Walker for a change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: You're on the last night of a "fuck, I'm divorced," holiday that's been no fun, but then you meet Walker at the hotel bar.
Relationships: August Walker/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

“Is this seat taken?”

At the voice, you turned in your seat at the hotel bar, fully prepped to tell the interloper to sling his hook, you weren’t interested in whatever his nosy ass wanted, and you didn’t do random hotel sex.

But your words dried up.

He was  _ tall. _ Dark chocolate hair, a little messy, curled over his forehead, a contrast to his cobalt eyes, the colour of the sea in summer. The moustache he wore with thick stubble should have been at home on a porn star, but on this guy, it worked. The deep voice, made for sin, didn’t hurt any, either.

His crisp white shirt looked tailored. Open at the neck, it revealed a tempting triangle of chest and a few whorls of dark body hair.

Okay.  _ Colour me interested, _ you thought. “No, go ahead,” you replied.

He pulled out the stool and sat, setting down a paperback copy of  _ Brave New World _ on the bar. The bartender sauntered over, her gaze flicking appreciatively over the stranger. “What can I get you?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Hudson, single measure, on the rocks. Thanks.” His gaze settled on you. “Can I get you another?”

You had half a glass of chardonnay left and you were nursing it; no sense in getting wasted for no reason. “Thanks, but no.”

The bartender slid the glass of amber whiskey towards the stranger and he nodded his thanks, shifting to face you subtly. “Name’s Walker.”

You gave him your name; no reason not to. You’d be flying home tomorrow after all.

“So, Walker, what brings you here to drink whiskey tonight?”

“Business tomorrow,” he said shortly, but his manner was friendly. “You?”

You smiled sadly. “Well, tonight’s the last night of the holiday I treated myself to when I divorced my husband. I’ve had a very… frivolous time, but I can’t say I feel any better for it.”

Walker lifted the glass to his lips and sipped the whiskey. “Sorry to hear it, ma’am.”

You lifted your glass. “To pity parties.”

Walker clinked his whiskey tumbler against your wine glass. You both took a drink. “What happened?” he asked at length. “Between you and your husband, I mean.”

You mulled over the question. The honeyed scent of Walker’s amber whiskey reached you from his glass, sweet, intoxicating.

“I don’t know. The passion died out. Maybe it was never there to begin with; we were quite young when we got together.”

Walker nodded silently, sympathy in his deep blue eyes, but he said nothing. You were glad; you didn’t need pity or false platitudes from strangers.

“You married?” you asked, your gaze skittering over his hands - broad palms, long fingers - and not seeing a ring.

“No, ma’am.”

_ Good, _ you automatically thought, then chastised yourself. You weren’t in the market for one night stands, even if this guy was as hot as hell, and then some.  _ No one should be that hot with a moustache, _ you mentally added. Somehow it worked with the thick stubble on his jaw and the soulful blue eyes. It had no right to work, but it did, and the whole package stirred something primal in your belly, something that had been dormant for many months now.

_ I want him. _

You finished your glass of wine, eyed the man next to you. “I think I’m ready for another.”

A smile tugged at his lips, and he flagged down the bartender. You ordered another glass, and Walker got another whiskey on the rocks. You watched as the bartender poured the amber liquid deftly into a new tumblr, and then slid both over.

Walker lifted your wine glass and offered it. As you accepted, your fingers brushed, and a little spark of  _ something _ zinged up your arm.  _ Well, then. _ You wondered if he felt it, too.

He lifted his glass in a silent proposal to toast. “To drinking with strangers in hotel bars.”

You laughed, clinked your glass against his, then lifted your chin in the direction of his book. “Book not that good? Otherwise surely you’d have your nose in it, rather than taking pity on me.”

His gaze darkened. “That’s what you think? That it’s pity?”

You dropped your gaze, insecure now. “Well.. what else am I meant to think?”

His voice lowered half an octave. “So it couldn’t possibly be that I saw a beautiful woman sitting alone, and I wanted to be the one to keep her company?”

Anticipation pooled sweetly in your belly. You wanted to feel beautiful, young, joyful, wanted to be the woman he saw, rather than the truth - a thirty-something divorcee who’d splurged half her settlement on a five-star holiday and now just felt hollow.

“Hey, Walker,” you said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to get out of here? I mean, for sex,” you stumbled, your cheeks going red.  _ I’ve blown it now. Fuck. _

You’d expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. His gaze went dark and hot, and he nodded once, holding out his hand, palm up. You hesitated for a second before putting your hand in his, and when he stood, you went with him.

Walker tucked the paperback under one arm as you did the same with your clutch bag. The bartender charged the drinks to your rooms as, holding hands, Walker led you to the elevators. As he pressed the button and the little numbers showed the car descending, you turned to him.

“I don’t usually do this.”

His expression didn’t change. “No judgement. Especially not from me, I’m going to benefit from this situation.”

You half-laughed. He’d somehow know exactly what to say.

You breathed in deeply. “I just wanted what you said. To feel beautiful.”

Walker arched a brow. “Well congratulations, you  _ are _ beautiful.”

He said it without a single trace of flattery or sarcasm, just plain fact, and it made your heart flutter. 

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors slid open, welcoming you both. As the car carried you up one floor at a time, you gazed at your reflections in the mirror, Walker, a full head taller than you, smart in his dress shirt and slacks, and you, your hair framing your face, eyes shiny with anticipation.

Your eyes met in the mirror and Walker smiled slightly. “Still time to change your mind. Ma’am.”

“Not a chance.” You’d been on your post-divorce holiday for seven full days and you hadn’t felt so much as a flicker of desire for a man in that time. You were grabbing this with both hands.

“Well, then.” He set his hands on your hips and turned you to face him. You caught a whiff of the sweet, honeyed whiskey and the tang of coffee as he bent his head, and then your lips met. The bristly hair of his moustache tickled pleasantly, and his lips were warm and soft. Your tongues tangled, and he tasted addictive. You sighed into his mouth and he pulled you closer, pressing your hips into his, so you could feel the hard ridge of his desire against your belly.  _ Yes. This. More. Now. _

The elevator doors pinged open.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get very smutty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanking my beta and BFF, @lokimostly x

Walker tugged your hand and led you to his room by silent agreement. You didn’t mind; you’d been throwing clothes around, getting ready to leave in the morning. His room would likely be neater and you could leave if things got awkward.

Your heart beat a hard tattoo in your chest as he beeped the key card and let you both into the room. It was larger than yours, with a huge window that afforded a view of the sea. You’d really sprung out top dollar on this holiday - why not, you might as well be a divorcee in style.

Enchanted, you crossed to the window, looking out at the setting sun, casting its dusky pink fingers into the darkening sky. 

“It’s gorgeous here.”

“So’s the view I’ve got.”

You turned, smiling. It was a cheesy line, but he delivered it well, with enough seriousness that you would believe him for tonight. And what was the harm? Tonight was all you’d have together, after all.

“Come closer, then,” you teased, crooking your finger, feeling light and giddy and young. 

Walker did as you bid, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth that quickly turned hot and hungry. You licked into his mouth, tasting the honey of his whiskey on his tongue. He made you feel desirable once more. Impatient, you started to pluck at the buttons on his dress shirt. He made a little growly sound of approval in his throat and it went right to the achy place between your thighs. You finished the buttons and shoved the shirt down his arms and holy shit he was built. 

You spread your greedy palms over his chest, the dark hair tickling your skin pleasantly. “Oh my God.” You belatedly realised you’d said it out loud and peeked up at him, embarrassed.

A slight smile tugged at his mouth, like he was unused to praise, and then he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the enormous bed. He lay you down like an offering to a deity, and then that broad, rangy body covered yours and you moaned at the feel of him everywhere you wanted him. 

The distant sound of the waves and of the birdsong at dusk reached out dimly as Walker made his way down your body, first nipping at your neck and collarbone, then propping himself up on his elbows as he unbuttoned your sundress, slowly, very slowly, brushing kisses over each new inch of skin he revealed. You wore a lacy bra, one from the few new sets you’d treated yourself too after your damp squib of a divorce, and he trailed his tongue over your nipple through the thin fabric. The rasp of his tongue was like a bolt of electricity and your hips bucked helplessly into his.

Walker smiled against the slope of your breast and opened the front clasp of your bra before tasting you again, skin to skin. You tangled your fingers into his thick pile of hair, like tattered silk between your digits. 

He lavished attention on each breast in turn, until you were squirming restlessly, hands fisting in his hair.

He took the hint, finishing the buttons and laying your dress open, the deep coral fabric a contrast to the classic white of the bedsheets. His moustache tickled at your belly as he nuzzled at your navel and then kissed along the waistband of your panties.

Your husband had never been into this, and at the time you hadn’t been bothered. But now for the first time in years, were you going to experience-

Walker lapped at you through the thin lace and your hips almost pistoned off the bed. You automatically widened your legs to give him better access.

He made a sound low in his throat and moved away to slip off your shoes and slide the underwear down your legs. Then he braced one of your calves on his shoulder and went to work. 

You sucked in a deep breath as his tongue traced your folds, teasing, until you gasped out his name in desperation, and he started drawing slow circles on your clit, keeping up the pressure just right. He gave you time to adjust to the sensations, knowing when to curl his tongue in and when to stop, until you were keening out loud, pressing into his face. The bolt of pleasure shot through you and you sobbed as he stroked you through it.

When you fell back to Earth he was leaning up on one elbow, that half-smile playing on his face. 

“Smug bastard,” you laughed.

His smile widened. “Guilty as charged.”

“God, that was amazing.” You rolled on to your side to face him. “Now, more. My turn to explore.”

He gladly lay back down, sighing in contentment as you went to town on his belt buckle, showing his trousers down, then seeing to his shoes, socks and underwear. Your clothes tangled together on the smooth wooden floor, a pile of cotton and lace. You crawled up the bed between his legs, breathing him in; he smelled faintly of the honeyed whiskey, of the hot summer air and waning sunshine. He smelled like freedom and whimsy, and you wanted him more than anyone you’d ever wanted in your life **.**

His erection rested heavy against the flat slope of his belly and you explored him leisurely with your hands as he touched you anywhere he could reach, his large hands capable and sure in their strokes.

You used your mouth then, relishing the low groan that escaped his lips; turning him inside out made something inside you flutter with delight. You felt him twitch heavily in your mouth and he squeezed your shoulders. “Not like this. There’s…. A condom in my pocket.”

You contented yourself with one last lick that left his legs trembling, then you rustled in his pocket, coming up with treasure. You ripped the packet open yourself, then retraced your path up his body. 

Walker’s hands came to rest on your hips as you straddled him, tossing aside the foil from the condom and slowly, slowly rolling the rubber down his length. You braced your hands on his shoulders and lent down for a kiss, nipping at his full bottom lip as you settled yourself right there, then slid down. He filled you and you gasped at the sensation and pleasure of it.

His eyes drifted closed as you set up a rhythm and he helped you, gripping your hips, his hands steady and sure. The sound of your bodies moving together was wonderfully wet, the sound of the ocean and some distant party music the only backdrop, and it was perfect.

Walker changed angles, lifting a leg, and then he hit a spot inside you that no one had ever reached, and bliss crested inside you until the pleasure spilled over.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered as your muscles convulsed around him, and he moaned, long and low, as he came, too.

Some time later, he padded to the big bathroom to dispose of the condom, and when he came back, you were lying facing the window, looking out at the waves.

Walker settled in beside you, nuzzling at your shoulder, and you giggled at the tickle of his moustache.

“Has anyone ever told you that’s a porn ‘tache?” you asked, lazily, content.

“Many times.”

“And that doesn’t make you want to shave it?”

He tickled you again. “Do you think I should?”

“No. It suits you.”

“Yeah. I think so, too.”

He lay on his back, one arm out, and you went willingly, curling into him. Tomorrow, you would be on a plane home, back to the cracked egg shell remains of your life, but tonight, Walker was yours, and you intended to milk every minute of it. “Round two?” you whispered into the curve where his neck and shoulder met.

Walker huffed out a laugh. “Trying to kill me, woman?” but you heard the smile in his voice and he rolled so he lay on top of you. “What a way to die.” 


End file.
